Overcoming
by Leola Mae
Summary: This one shot is a result of a prompt submitted to the TwikinkFest. I hope you enjoy! Prompt: In a word: crying. I want a Bella who cries when she comes (maybe she's really embarrassed about it, or she used to be but now she's more comfortable with it) and a male partner (anyone) who is GGG about it and encourages her to let go. Bonus points for "good girl" somewhere in there.


Author's Note: This one shot is a result of a prompt submitted to the TwikinkFest. I hope you enjoy!

Rated M for Mature Content. This is me giving you fair warning.

**Prompt: In a word: crying. I want a Bella who cries when she comes (maybe she's really embarrassed about it, or she used to be but now she's more comfortable with it) and a male partner (anyone) who is GGG about it and encourages her to let go. Bonus points for "good girl" somewhere in there.**

Thank you to all those running the TwiKinkFest. I think you guys are bloody brilliant and have thoroughly enjoyed this!

**Overcoming**

"Come on, baby. You know you want to."

She shook her head fiercely at me. "I don't, Edward. Please."

It was always the same – the same struggle, same internal battle, same hurdles to leap – but I didn't mind. No, not at all. In fact, truth be told, I kind of loved it.

I think every man loves to see his woman fall apart in his arms. It's a power trip to watch her lose control because of what you do to her body. That's definitely good for the ego, I can tell you that.

But with Bella it was different. She fought so hard against it and that made her release so much sweeter to me.

"Yes, you do. You can't lie to me."

Her body tensed further as she protested, "NmmHmm."

Her face scrunched up when I slid inside her. I knew her resistance would get a lot stronger before she could break through her barriers into pleasure. The more she fought it, the more I loved it, knowing she was that much closer.

Hovering above her, propped on one elbow, I dropped my head to her ear and whispered, "Give it to me, Bella. I want it."

"No, please," she whimpered. "I can't. I shouldn't. It isn't right."

I smirked against her ear and breathed into her skin, licking around the shell and pumping my cock inside her. She was getting closer.

"No…" her voice wavered and her eyes turned a little glassy. "I don't want to."

You see, Bella's parents had done a real number on her. They had been members of a strange religious cult that, among other oddities, valued chastity on a level that was almost idolatry. According to them, sex was only for procreation and wasn't meant to be pleasurable. It was to be done as quickly and efficiently as possible, and only at times when the couple was most likely to conceive a child. At all other times, physical expressions of affection or desire were not just frowned upon but punished, ridiculed, and even brainwashed out of the wayward flock of followers.

Children caught touching themselves were administered some of the strangest and most horrifying punishments I'd ever heard of. Bella had described having her hands tied behind her back for several days when her mother caught her touching herself at the tender age of six.

SIX! What child isn't curious about their own body at six? It's not even sexual at that point. It's just, "Hey, what's this?"

I was furious at them each time she told me something new. Like the time her mother thought she'd intentionally let a boy touch her ass. Bella had protested for an hour, she said, that the incident was nothing more than being jostled in a crowd of people, but her mother and father would hear nothing of it. She was made to kneel in the floor of the living room all night as a penance and a reminder of what an evil harlot of a girl she was. When she was allowed to rise from her position in the morning she had to write a two page letter of apology to the boy and his parents for her loose ways and begging forgiveness for leading him down the road of perdition like a whore.

Yeah. I wanted to kill someone for that.

But my Bella is a smart woman. As she grew up she saw the way her parents' religion twisted everything. When she was old enough, she left them and never looked back. It took her several years but one day she walked into the church where I attended and I'd never seen any one more beautiful or more scared in all my life.

It was a long row to hoe wooing my Bella. In the beginning, she didn't want any part of religious fanatics but she missed the community and fellowship of a church environment, especially with no family now they'd shunned her for leaving, so she kept coming back.

Another thing she wanted no part of was me.

She protested she didn't need a man, didn't want a man, had no use for a man. I asked her if she'd prefer a woman. She looked completely flabbergasted. When she realized I was teasing her she smacked me on the chest with the flat of her hand and walked away. She didn't come back for two weeks. I really thought I'd screwed up but my Bella's stronger than that.

I learned not to underestimate her pretty quickly. I also learned about her past and how strong she had to be to survive her upbringing and the strength she'd needed to be able to walk away from everything she ever knew.

She amazed me every day. I think that's why I fell in love with her.

Our courtship was interesting to say the least. Even with my old fashioned views on what an unmarried couple should and shouldn't do, she took the cake. It took months of dating for her to let me hold her hand, months more to put my arm around her as we strolled down the street, and the first time I kissed her she threw up.

Yeah, that was fun… Not so much.

But the more I learned what she suffered, the more my desires seemed insignificant. I thought more and more about her needs. She was so repressed, I seriously doubted if she could identify a need.

Over the phone one night - because Bella found it easier to be honest with me if she was separated by distance and didn't have to be "dazzled" by me. She confessed, at twenty-three years old, she'd never even looked at herself naked in the mirror. She had no idea what her body looked like or felt like. Ridiculous practices like dressing in the dark and showering with a scrubber of some kind separating her hand from her flesh, these were all normal to her.

At that point in our relationship, Bella didn't know anything about how sex worked beyond the basic "insert tab A into slot B." Her mother had frightened her with their private 'girl time' conversations, filling her with horror stories of how she'd had to suffer through sex far too many times until Bella was conceived. She told Bella that she'd never had any other children because the entire process felt so dirty and disgusting and painful that, once she knew she was pregnant, she stopped. She claimed to have not done it since.

I had no words for Bella when she told me. I just kept thinking about the massive case of blueballs her father must have and wondered if someone could die of chronically "blue" testicles.

Bella's mother had told her what an awful experience it was to lose her virginity and how she'd bled and bled and bled and hurt for weeks afterward. I knew then that her mother had flat out lied to her daughter to such a degree that it would have been comical, if it wasn't so sad.

We talked about it for weeks. She wanted to believe that her mother was wrong but she'd had that twisted truth ingrained in her so much that she just couldn't let go. One thing that seemed to help was showing her the truth in the Bible.

We discussed verses about the marriage bed being pure – meaning anything done between a man and his wife, God considered holy. That was a revelation to Bella that took a long time for her to assimilate into her way of thinking.

I read the Song of Solomon to her. The evening turned out to be more interesting for me than I'd thought. Never knew reading scriptures could give a hard-on but I definitely had to spend some extra time in the shower when Bella and I parted ways that evening.

However, even with all the strange baggage she brought with her, I knew I wanted Bella to be mine. Our sex life would never be easy, but I knew she would be worth it.

Not that I go around telling anyone this but we spent our wedding night exploring ground most people cover in the first date. Kissing. Hugging. Cuddling. All of it was advances in leaps and bounds for Bella, which I appreciated greatly. I just wish I hadn't had to spend our honeymoon wanking it like I always did. Still, I wouldn't trade my life with Bella for the world.

The night we consummated our marriage was much closer to our first anniversary than our wedding night. I did everything I could to make her comfortable. We'd talked about it for weeks and weeks. I gave her some Tylenol to help with whatever pain she was anticipating. There were several starts and stops and, yes, she left to throw up …twice…before we made it all the way to the end.

I'd never thought I'd be happy to finish quickly my first time but if I'd been able to last any longer, Bella wouldn't have made it through. And once started, I just didn't think I was going to be able to stop. I'm so glad I never had to find out.

Unfortunately, she spent the hour afterward in a steaming hot shower – that she refused to let me into – and immerged with pink skin where she'd scrubbed all over. She cried all night, apologizing to me about not being able to be normal. Of course, I shushed her and whispered I loved her and held her until she exhausted herself and fell asleep still hiccupping occasionally.

It was another six months before we could do it with the lights on at all, even on low. Her humiliation was painful to watch but I was determined to show her how I longed to love her with my body, not just my heart. To her credit, Bella always made an effort, even as difficult for her as it was. Anything I asked of her she continued to try, even through so many failures. There were more nights that she ran from the room with her hand over her mouth, barely making it to the bathroom before she threw up. But slowly there were more and more nights where she stayed with me, able to hold it together, able to push the voices of condemnation out of her head long enough to just be there with me in the moment.

Eventually she got to the place where she could see the act as something she could do to show me she loved me as well. She touched me more, opened up to me, looked into my eyes, and loved me back.

It was wonderful, and more than I thought she'd be able to do for a long time yet, but I wanted more. I didn't want her to just tolerate me making love to her. I wanted her to want it, to want me. I wanted her to enjoy it and I knew she couldn't do that until she had an orgasm.

For once I decided not to tell her what I was doing. I knew my Bella. We'd been married for five years already and I knew what she'd do. She'd fight it and fight me if she knew what I had planned for her. But I needed to get her over that first hump, so to speak, knowing if I could walk her through one, no matter how small, no matter how unremarkable it might be, if it was any pleasure at all, I knew I had to do that for her.

One night I'd hid a very small finger vibe beneath my pillow and slipped it on, turning it on at the same time, while I covered her body with mine and kissed her to distraction. I chose to use a vibrator because I needed to get her there fast. She needed it to be over and done with before she could really figure out what was happening. Otherwise she'd think about it too much.

So I loved her and kissed her and felt her and caressed her and when I held the small vibe to her clit, she wriggled against me. Trying to figure out what was different, to see what I was doing to her, she broke our kiss.

"Edward?"

"Shh baby, it's okay," I said as I kept kissing her, holding her close to my chest.

"But Edward, what's - " she began, but the vibrator was already working its magic. "Omigod, Edward, it…its…I don't…No…No, please!" But it was too late. Her body arched against me and she strained to strangle the noise in her throat.

"That's it, baby. That's it. It's okay. You're doing so good. You're so beautiful. That's it, give it to me." I whispered to her as she came in my arms. I tried to keep her grounded and remind her I still had her. I wouldn't let her fall.

As soon as her body fell back down into the mattress she curled up into my chest and wept. The vibe lost somewhere in the sheets of the bed, I rolled her into me and rubbed her back, my chin on her head. She sobbed most of that night into my neck.

"Shhh, baby. Shhh. You're okay. Everything's okay." I wasn't sure what else to tell her.

Predictably, she was angry with me for a while afterward, and rightfully so. I'd taken liberties she'd not given me permission to take. I asked for her forgiveness but she and I both knew there's nothing I would've changed about it. She admitted it was better to have the experience behind her and to know what it meant to have an orgasm so she could discuss it with more clarity and experience instead of judging it with no real knowledge.

In the end, she gave me permission to do it again but she said she didn't want any more warning than she'd had the first time. The experience was frightening and, in a way, awful for her.

She explained the predominant emotion she felt was shame. The very millisecond the orgasm ended, bone-crushing humiliation washed over her; so much so that she couldn't even bear to look at me, and so she cried.

Every time.

"What is it, Bella? What is it you feel when you come?" I asked once when we were snuggling on the couch.

Her blush preceded her words. I knew how difficult it was for her to talk about but I also knew how important it was for her.

"It's just so…" her head hung down as she stared at her fingers. "So, bad."

I frowned. "Bad? How so?"

"It's wrong. It's not supposed to be like that. I just feel so dirty. I can still hear my mother's voice, 'Good girls don't do that.' Not that she ever told me it felt like that. I don't even know if she's ever had an orgasm. I can't imagine that she has." She was quiet a moment as she thought, then shook her head hopelessly. "Good girls just don't behave so wantonly."

"But we've talked about this, Bella. You know that isn't true, don't you?"

She nodded minutely. "I can't help it," she'd confessed. "It feels wrong."

Those words always reverberated in my head when I had her beneath me.

I pressed my thumb to her clit and rubbed while my fingers dipped in and out of her.

"Please Edward…Please don't make me."

"Yes, sweetheart. Be a good girl for me and come."

"Ngh," she fought harder, unable to let go.

"Let go, baby. Let it out. You can do it. Your body wants it." I maneuvered myself further down her torso and sucked on her nipple. She rewarded me with a moan and the first start of her pumping hips with her head thrown back.

"That's it sweet girl. Come for me. Come for me, baby. You can do it."

As soon as I saw the tears started, I knew I had her. The first one slid from the corner of her eye and down her face.

"Yes, Bella. Good girl. That's my good girl. Take it, baby. Feel it. Doesn't it feel good? So good for you."

My rambling was only partially nonsense. Every time, I made a conscious effort to praise her through it. I knew one day she would want it, be open to it, ask me for it. But all of that depended on how she felt about it in the moment and I was determined to rid her of her parents' insanity. Sex and orgasms weren't bad or dirty or disgusting and she wasn't evil because she liked it when I got her off.

No. Quite the opposite, actually. She was stunning.

"Edward! Edward!" she cried out in terror as she grasped for me and clung to me, always so nervous and needy when it happened – when she came for me – afraid when she flew from the precipice she'd find herself in hell.

"I'm here, baby. I've got you. Let go. I won't let you fall."

"YESSSSSSSSSS!" she cried as she spiraled out of control.

"Oh yeah, Bella. There it is. Feel it, sweetheart. Feel it. I've got you. Relax into it and just feel. Everything's okay."

When the sobbing began I knew she was done and removed my hand from between her legs. I wrapped both arms around her and pulled her further into my chest while she cried.

"Such a good girl," I whispered into her hair as she wept. "Such a good brave girl."


End file.
